by Lisa Worrall
"I'm okay," Todd's voice was small and terrified, but it was there.
Scott leaned his head back against the foot of the bed as they heard feet pounding up the stairs and Brent skidded to a halt in the doorway. "Yay," he mumbled weakly, "the calvary."
"What the fuck is going on in here?" Brent shouted, gazing in stunned amazement around the room.
Scott gave a pathetic half-chuckle, knowing they must look like a Greek tragedy. Three of them with gunshots, Todd lying beaten on the bed, and blood everywhere. Behind Brent crowded David, Cal, Damon, and Erik.
"Jay?" Erik choked in disbelief and ran across the room, dropping to his knees beside his lover.
"Cal," Will rasped. "Call nine-one-one and White Plains PD, ask for Detectives Cassidy and Bates, then hold a gun on Jay. Damon, take care of Todd. It's okay, we're cops," he nodded at Brent. He turned his head and smiled at Scott beside him. "I'm going to pass out now. Is that okay?"
"Jeez, a thigh shot and you need to pass out. You're such a lightweight, Harrison," Scott replied, pressing a kiss to Will's temple as the big man's eyes closed and he slumped against his shoulder. "But I love you," he whispered, closing his own eyes and leaning his head on Will's as he slipped into semi-consciousness. Everything was a blur after that as Scott drifted in and out.
Brent, Mr Sleaze himself, turned out to be quite the white knight. He ripped a towel in half and tied it around Will's upper thigh, literally ripping the towel rail from the wall to wind in the knot to form a tourniquet on Will's leg, to try to stem the still steadily flowing blood. He eased Scott down on his back and Cal and he packed towels beneath the gaping hole in his side and then pressed more towels on his stomach.
David had pulled Jay up and sat him in the easy chair in the corner of the room and stood watching his every move.
Damon and Cal sat either side of Todd, holding him while he sobbed quietly; the relief that it was finally over being too much. A heartbroken and devastated Erik, after listening to what Todd had to say, could do nothing but murmur, "I'm sorry, so sorry," repeatedly, staring at Jay as if he had never seen him before. Jay stared into space, not making eye contact with anyone in the room.
Scott groaned loudly in relief at the sound of sirens and the screech of tires outside, heralding the arrival of the professional calvary. He heard Grace before he saw her as his name was called over and over on her way up the stairs. Jesus, she makes a lot of noise for someone so small! "Keep it… down," he mumbled as her face swam before him. "Trying… to sleep."
"Not yet, you don't, asswipe," Grace said, quickly summing up the situation and switching to full on cop mode. "The ambulance is on its way," she said softly, kneeling beside him and removing the now sopping blood red towel from his side, so that she could evaluate the damage. Fuck! Her heart leapt into her throat at the vicious wound the bullet had torn into Scott's flesh. That's bad, that's really bad! Shut up, Cassidy, focus! "It's not too bad," she said confidently, proud of the way her voice only wobbled slightly as the lie fell from her lips. "Hold on, babe. They're coming." She glanced over at Julie as Scott passed out again. "How's Will?"
Julie swallowed hard, her face impassive, but her eyes terrified. "He won't wake up. He's lost a lot of blood and his pulse is really thready. Where the fuck is that ambulance!"
"Are they okay?" Todd croaked from the bed. "Are they okay!"
Grace stood and walked around the bed to clasp Todd's outstretched hand. "Todd? I'm Grace, Scott's partner. How are you doing?"
"Forget me. I've had much worse than this. Are they okay?" Todd's voice cracked on a sob. "They saved me. Please let them be okay."
"They're both hurt quite badly, I won't lie to you," Grace said in her no-nonsense manner. "Will's lost a lot of blood and Scott's—" She paused, not trusting herself to continue.
"The ambulance is here," Cal interrupted from where he was stood at the window.
It was in fact two ambulances. The paramedics carried in stretchers and dealt with each man in turn. Scott whimpered when they removed the bloody towels and packed his side with gauze before lifting him onto a stretcher. He slapped weakly at the hands pushing an oxygen mask over his face. "Will? Where's Will," he croaked. "I want to see, Will." Not wanting to give in to the darkness again, he tried to push himself up on the stretcher, fighting against the hands pushing him back down. "Get off me," he growled. Didn't they know he needed to stay where Will was? Needed to see he was okay? Didn't care what happened to him as long as Will was okay? "Grace!" His voice sounded canned to him from behind the oxygen mask a paramedic was holding onto him, forcing him to breathe in the pure air.
"I'm here, Scott," Grace said softly, taking his hand while they strapped him to the stretcher.
"Need to… see Will. Is… he okay?"
"They're strapping his leg now. Everything's gonna be okay. You're going to be fine, Scott." She gripped his fingers tightly and smiled down at him.
"Crap… liar, Cassidy," he rasped, his eyes closing. He knew how bad his wound was. He wasn't stupid. That's why he needed to see Will, needed to hold him, tell him. Who was he kidding? He could still feel the blood oozing from his side, the wetness of it against his skin. He may not survive to tell Will anything. "Tell him," he gripped Grace's fingers weakly. "You tell him... I love him. Tell him… I'm… sorry."
"Fuck you, Turner," Grace ground out through clenched teeth. "Tell him yourself. Come on!" She yelled at the paramedics. "What's the hold up?"
One of the paramedics working on Will suddenly shouted, "He's not breathing!"
"I gotta get him to the ER, ma'am." The man holding onto Scott's stretcher, grabbed Grace's upper arm and leaned in to stress the urgency of the situation. "The bullet went straight through one of his kidneys and out the other side. The more time we waste, the less chance he has."
"Take him, take him," Grace said, squeezing Scott's fingers one more time.
"No… not yet... Will!" Scott's voice was barely a whisper. "Will—"
The noise of the monitor's continuous monotone followed him into the dark as blackness surrounded him and held onto him tight.
Chapter twelve
Todd's eyes opened slowly. He could feel the coolness of the crisp sheets beneath him. Wincing at the throbbing ache in his backside, he tried to shift his position. He'd had to have surgery to repair the damage Jay had caused. He had a catalog of contusions and heavily bruised ribs, along with a fractured cheekbone which may need plastic surgery later down the line. As if he needed additional reminders of his degradation. Every second of it was already imprinted on his brain. Would he ever be free?
They had been able to perform the surgery under an epidural and after much shouting, screaming, and general menace on Brent's part, Damon had been allowed to gown up and sit with Todd while they did the repair. Unfortunately, the epidural was now wearing off and the throbbing ache in his ass was worsening. As he moved, a soft moan fell from his lips.
"Do you need some pain relief?"
Todd turned his head to see a sleepy looking Marcus sitting in a chair by the bed. Shame washed over him. Marcus knew. Todd closed his eyes immediately and turned away, unable to face the recrimination in Marcus's gaze.
"Don't you do that," Marcus said, his voice unwavering. "Don't you turn away from me. Not ever. Look at me, baby, please."
Opening his uninjured eye, Todd looked into deepest blue and saw only love. "I'm sorry," he bit his lower lip, the tears falling unheeded down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for. It's okay, I'm here now. Everything's going to be okay." He pressed their lips gently together, his own tears mingling with Todd's. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"He said... he said he'd deny it. That no one would believe me over him. He said… he said he'd tell you… hurt you. I didn't want you to stop loving me. Please don't stop loving me," Todd rasped, his voice thick with tears. Please don't hate me.
"Nothing could ever change the way I feel about you, don't you know that? Nothing.
"
Todd sobbed in the haven of Marcus's arms. Sobbed out all the hurt and the pain, knowing that it was over, and he was finally safe.
"Why?"
Jay's gut clenched at the sound of that voice. He couldn't look at him. Knew the pain and hurt he would see in those blue eyes. Turning his head toward the window and away from the man standing in the doorway, he let his eyes drift shut. The doctor told him that they'd removed the bullet from his shoulder and that there was no major damage. He would be sore for quite a while, but he would heal. Then the doctor had left the room while Detectives Cassidy and Bates read him his rights and slipped a set of handcuffs around his wrist and the side bar of the bed.
"Wasn't I enough? I loved you." Erik's breath hitched in his throat, his voice thick with unshed tears. "How could you hurt Todd and what you did to Cory and Jon—" he bit back a sob. "Say something, you bastard!"
"Is Todd okay?" Jay heard the pain in the harsh sobs Erik could no longer hold back, but he couldn't deal with his pain. He needed answers and no one was giving them to him. The heavy door slammed as Erik left the room and Jay finally opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Was Todd in the next room? Down the hall? He needed to know. His anger began to boil in his gut. What was the bitch telling people? Was he spinning some ridiculously pathetic story about how Jay had hurt him? Was he fooling them into thinking that he wasn't responsible for everything? He'd better be keeping his mouth shut, or he'd pay… God how he would make him pay.
"Hey, handsome."
Grace's voice seemed to come from far away and Scott frowned, trying to latch onto the sound above the annoying beep filling his head. She said his name again and he felt as though he should at least try to respond. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked owlishly above the clear mask strapped to his face. Grace's face swam above him and he turned his head slowly and squinted until she came into focus. Her fingers felt cool on his forehead and his tongue snaked out to moisten his lips.
"Is this… heaven?" He rasped, wincing at the dryness of his mouth.
"Would I be here if it was?" Grace teased, her smile soft as she gazed down at him. "You're okay," she said, taking his hand in hers, stroking his skin softly.
"What?" Scott tried to convey the question he was asking with his eyes, hoping she would understand him, as he didn't have the energy to do anything more right now.
"The bullet went through your left kidney, and they had to remove it," she said softly. "You had a lot of bleeding and it was touch and go there for a while, but they managed to get it under control. You're gonna be okay, you lucky son of a bitch."
"Not… me," he huffed, lifting the hand without the clip on it that read his oxygen levels, wondering briefly why his arm weighed a hundred pounds all of a sudden, and pulled the mask off his nose and mouth, so it was hanging on his chin. "Will?" His throat felt raw, as if he'd been gargling broken glass and his voice didn't sound as though it belonged to him. "Where's… Will? I heard... he wasn't breathing."
"That's 'cause you were boring the shit out of me," a voice to his left said. A deep, croaky drawl. "Passing out was the only way I could get you to shut up."
Scott tried to sit up and he groaned as Will pushed the wheelchair he was sitting in, closer to the bed and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Don't you dare, sexy. If you're gonna bust your stitches, it's gonna be during hot butt sex, not because you're being your usual meat-headed, asshole self."
Scott grabbed the hand that Will held out to him through the side bars of the hospital bed. He's alive. Fucking asshole. I'm going to kick the shit out of him! "Hot butt sex? You wish," he rasped. "Lukewarm butt sex maybe." He pinched Will's arm hard, causing the other man to give a squawk of pain. "Son of a bitch! Scared the fucking shit out of me. I thought you were dead you big freak. What did you stop breathing for? You only got shot in the thigh!" When he'd heard that monotone as he'd passed out for the final time, he had silently asked God to take him, too. He didn't want to live in a world that didn't have Will Harrison in it.
Will huffed indignantly beside him. "Fuck you, Turner. I was pumping out blood faster than they could get it in. Artery was like a geyser, you should have seen it. Trust you to turn this into a "my gunshot's bigger than your gunshot" pissing contest."
"At least I didn't flat line on your ass and I was holding my guts in my hand!" Scott croaked back. "I've half a mind to make sure you never get any kind of butt sex again." The way his eyes were roaming over Will's face as if to memorize every curve, every line, softened his threat.
"Can we keep the talk of butt sex to a minimum, please," Julie said, walking into the room with a coffee for Grace and one for herself. "Hot or any other kind."
"You're just jealous 'cause you wanna tap my ass too," Will shot back, his fingers tightening on Scott's, his gaze never leaving Scott's face.
"I'd rather floss with Grace's twat hair," Julie deadpanned, sipping at her coffee. Scott raised an eyebrow and glared at her meaningfully, grinning when she stood up. "Gracie, why don't we go tell the nurse he's awake?" she said, nodding her head toward the door.
"Subtle, Bates," Scott said hoarsely.
"It's my middle name," she grinned, closing the door behind them.
Scott couldn't take his eyes off Will. His bandaged leg was supported on pull out slats and there was a bag of blood attached to the IV in his arm, hanging on a stand fixed to the back of the chair. Noting the pallor of his skin and the dark circles beneath those soulful brown eyes, Scott frowned. "Shouldn't you be in bed somewhere, geyser boy?"
"You trying to get rid of me? After all the fuss I caused getting in here?" Will grinned. At Scott's raised eyebrow he explained. "I may have made one of the doctors cry when they said I couldn't come in here and wait for you to wake up." He shrugged. "It's not my fault he's a wimp, and the gun wasn't loaded. Hence the paraphernalia strapped to the chair. My leg hurts like a son of a bitch, I'm woozy, and my butt's gone to sleep, but you're not getting rid of me. I've been waiting three hours for those beautiful eyes to open, Turner."
"Don't ever do that again."
"What? Threaten the hospital staff, or wait for those beautiful eyes?" Will said softly, reaching up to brush Scott's hair from his forehead.
"I thought you were dead." Scott pulled on Will's wrist and dragged his hand down to his lips, pressing them to the palm, kissing the soft flesh. A smile curved Will's lips and he bit Will's thumb gently in retaliation. "Freak."
"Asshole," Will responded, smiling wider and wider. "You were worried about me."
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were, don't deny it. I heard you, you know."
"Heard what?" Scott frowned, shifting in the bed and grimacing at the flash of pain in his back and side. The painkillers were obviously beginning to wear off and his whole left side was beginning to beat out a steady throb in time with the beat of his heart.
"I heard you tell me that you love me."
Scott felt his cheeks fill with warmth. Shit! He was supposed to be unconscious! "I was delirious," he huffed. "And I thought you were going to die. Hell, I thought I was going to die. It was just a heat of the moment thing… like saying it during sex."
"Uh-huh, no way, I heard you say it. It's out there, you can't take it back." Will grinned, lowering the side of Scott's bed and repositioning himself. "Luckily, I know what a commitment-phobe you are."
"Oh, God, you're not going to go all Oprah on me, are you?"
"Maybe. You lurve me," Will drew the word out in a singsong voice.
Scott closed his eyes at the teasing grin on Will's face. "Great," he mumbled. "We have a moment when we're both close to death and you mock me. Nice, real classy, Harrison."
"Would it help if I said it back? Oh, wait a minute."
Rolling his eyes at the mock horror on Will's face he then shook his head, his expression rueful. "I'm going to regret this—what?"
"With your declaration of undying love and the bedside vigil and everything," Will dead
panned. "We're heading dangerously close to relationship country. You think you can handle that, Detective?"
"Meh," Scott replied, closing his eyes at the feel of Will's lips teasing the inside of his wrist. "If you wanna give it a try, I guess that'd be okay. But I can't guarantee I'll be any good at it. You know, what with me being such an asshole."
"Will you hold my hand in public?" Will asked, flicking his tongue against the inside of Scott's elbow.
"If it's dark," Scott replied, tired of waiting and lifting his head to urge Will on. He needed his lips on him now. Needed to know that he was really there, that he wasn't just delirious, that Will was really alive.
"What about making out on the desk?" Will was less than a breath away.
"If it's after hours and we're the only ones there... Will." His name was a whimper. Scott wanted him to bridge that breath and stop torturing him.
"Sex in the bathroom at work?" Will grinned.
"Definitely," Scott grinned back, lifting his hand and pulling Will's head down, sealing their lips together in a soft, gentle, tender kiss. When their lips parted, Scott brushed waves of honey-blond hair from Will's face and pressed their foreheads together. "I love you."
"I know, you already told me." Will's smile was soft and gentle, and he didn't tease for long. "I love you, too."
THREE MONTHS LATER
Will yawned widely and tipped his head back beneath the spray of warm water from the shower head. He was tired, the kind of tired that made your bones ache. Reaching up for the soap, he washed himself, taking care around the scar where the bullet had entered his flesh. Not that he hadn't recovered well, he had, but he'd been on his feet for more than a large portion of the day, and it was throbbing ominously. He groaned quietly and rinsed himself clean, turning off the shower when he was satisfied all the soap suds had washed down the drain.